


Nobody is Listening

by sass_bot



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adamant Fortress (Dragon Age), Angst and Tragedy, Drabble, Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 15:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20229997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sass_bot/pseuds/sass_bot
Summary: Anya loses more than just her composure in the Fade at Adamant Fortress.[Originally posted on tumblr 11.12.2018]





	Nobody is Listening

Adamant is overcast with the shadow of fear and taint—blood and ichor stain the ground and the sky flashes emerald and ruby.

_“Cry all you like, Evune. Nobody is listening…“_

_A hand tightens around Anya’s fingers, warm, calloused, and familiar._

When her head hits the ground, she can still see the rift in the Fade pulsating and bleeding in the sky above her.

_“You won’t find what you’re looking for. You never will. Everyone leaves.”_

_Her face is detached, but the lump that leaps into her throat nearly cuts her breathing off. The hand is so tight now it almost hurts, but it’s real._

She can’t see him anywhere. Grey Wardens all around her, their armor glinting in the firelight. Where is he? She winces, feeling her joints protest when she pulls her hand out in front of her eyes. She watches it double and multiply in front of her as her body pulls her into the darkness.

And it’s empty. Her hand is empty.

Her mind slips into slimy quicksand, fidgeting in its dark grasp, and she feels the Fade flash in and out of her vision like a dream of a memory.

_He smiles at her and she wants to tease him, but her throat is too tight and she wants to tug his arm to her chest and tell him to stop because she can see him walking towards the cliff—it should be her dangling her toes off the edge._

_But she doesn’t—she can’t, because nobody is listening._

He’s floating away on the wind, and as she chases, her legs resist, shattering beneath her. Pain shoots through her toes, up her calves, and to her hips. Still she crawls, digging her nails into the void, getting shards of it stuck under her nails, burying it deep in her skin. She keeps on until it gets too black to see in front of her and she can’t tell whether she’s awake or dreaming anymore.

For all the strength she thought she had, she is a kitten now, unable even to open her eyes, weakly pawing at the ground and meowing softly for her mother; and out of the darkness, she feels someone jerk her head out of the smoke, and the freezing air of Skyhold rushes into her lungs, burning the inside of her throat.

“You’re awake.”

She blinks slowly, wiping the sleep out of her eyes until the man before her comes into focus—his sharp, hooked nose and the sharp edge of his jaw make it clear that this is the elf known as Solas.

She bites back the snarky response she instinctively formulates in favor of asking the question that’s been beating away at her mind like a hammer to an anvil. “Where’s Loghain?”

Solas frowns slightly, as if he’d completely expected this from her, and gestures to a small cloth pouch sitting on the table beside her head. “He told the Inquisitor to give this to you.”

She drags herself upright and reaches blindly for the pouch, scratching at the table until she has it between her fingers and hastily unties its strings, letting its contents spill into her lap.

A single golden Orlesian caprice coin catches her eye. It’s dented through the middle and would be worth absolutely nothing to any uppity Orlesian noble, but it brings an unpleasant sting to her eyes.

Underneath the coin, she finds a small note, and, written in a hand she knows well, a simple message is written:

_I am listening—always._

_I love you._


End file.
